Chapter 19
Isit on the patio of Pearl’s Airstream trailer, my mind wandering. I left work early and came back here, but Pearl’s not home yet. I brush the pine needles off the table and kick my feet up.
I look at Pearl’s yard. It’s evident that she has put in some time here. There are several bright pink flamingo lawn ornaments set up on the lawn, and around each of them Pearl has planted several concentric circles of pink and blue pansies. The decorative shrubs next to her trailer have been carefully trimmed. The mailbox at the end of the gravel driveway is freshly painted. The little white picket fence that runs around the Airstream is in pristine condition.
I have some misgivings about living here, even temporarily. But I will say this: it might be a trailer, but it’s a well-loved home.
Pursing my lips, I pull out my phone. Speaking of my arrangement with Pearl being temporary, I need to pull the trigger on the next phase of my plan. It’s that, or I have to get used to living in this damn trailer forever.
I compose a text to Sam.
Since I am engaged now, will I gain access to my trust? Cole said that he did when he got engaged.
I put my phone down on the table and fold my hands on my stomach. Looking around the wooded area, I wonder if I should be worried about ticks. Especially because I am going to have to go for a run in these woods very soon. I usually run on my name brand treadmill and lift weights in my home gym, also known as my home office.
But there is no room for a treadmill in Pearl’s trailer. No room for most of my things, even though I live relatively simply.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Sam.
Sam’s text messages always end as though he were writing a letter. I’m pretty sure that he programmed his phone that way fifteen years ago and never thought about it again.
Hello River. I am not convinced that your engagement is real. However, your mother has told me to get the stick out of my ass. So I will call the trust fund manager and start the process of thawing your trust. Yours in Christ, Sam Bennett.
I pump my fist triumphantly and hiss, “Yes!”
Gravel crunches on the road, alerting me to Pearl’s return. I sit up, dusting my jeans off to remove the clinging pine straw from the pines all around the trailer.
Pearl pulls her car up along the yard, and huffs as she gets out. She glares at my big truck in the driveway. “River,” she scolds. “It’s not right for you to park in my driveway.”
Getting to my feet, I spread my hands. “Why? I live here now.”
She balls her mouth up and marches up the steps to her trailer. “It has been a long day already.” She unlocks the door and steps back, waving me inside. “I still have a lot to do today. Please don’t make my life harder.”
I feel a pang of guilt. Here I was, thinking about me. Now that I look at her, Pearl does look quite tired. “Give me your keys. I’ll go move my truck and park your car in the driveway.” I put my hand out.
Her expression is pained. She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I just want to move on. It’s nice of you to offer, though.” She gives me a look as she points in the trailer door. “Are you coming?”
Feeling off-kilter, I rush up the steps and inside the Airstream. I have to duck my head when I get inside. Sitting down at the little red-checked table, I try to retain some semblance of coolness. It’s pretty hard to do in here, where I’m perpetually cramped.
Pearl shuts the door and hangs her purse on a hook. A place for everything, and everything in its place. This tiny trailer takes that idea to the extreme.
She starts toward the bedroom. I get up and follow her, noting that I already know her routine. She kicks off her work sneakers. and puts them in their little cubby in the closet. She sits down, her eyelids fluttering shut. She rubs at a knot in her neck.
I join her on the bed and reach over to sweep her hair back from her neck. The fine hairs on her nape prickle as I touch her neck and begin to knead her shoulder. An involuntary groan slips from her lips, loud enough to make her eyes pop open. “Oops.”
I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She chuckles, but she groans when I hit the right spot. “Ohh. Oh, yeah. Right there,” she purrs.
I’m always semi-hard whenever she’s around. But her gasps and little words of encouragement are like catnip to me. My cock stiffens, and I become painfully aware of how horny I am. It doesn’t help that I’m massaging Pearl’s shoulders. If I angle myself just so, I’m looking right down her shirt. My eyes lock onto her cleavage. The lacy pink bra she’s wearing peeks out occasionally.
I want to destroy that bra and obliterate her clothing. That’s all that’s going through my mind when Pearl sighs.
“I hate to tell you to stop.” She wrinkles her nose. “But I have a lot more to do before I can relax tonight.”
I drop a kiss on her neck. “Are you sure? I could strip you naked, rub your whole body down, and eat your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.”
Pearl turns to me, a half-smile on her face. “Can you do that after I do my work?”
I smirk. “Anytime. That’s a promise. The second you say you want sex, my pants are off.”
She turns around, kissing my lips softly. Her hand gently touches my ribs then trails down to caress my cock through my jeans. Her fingers dance lightly over the denim, taunting me.
Hot damn, the woman knows how to tease.
She breaks off the kiss, licks her lips, and pins me with her burnt umber-hued eyes. “Just a little taste.”
I bite my lips and thrust up against her hand. Her eyes take on a devilish gleam as she grabs my package through my jeans. “I want to ride you later.” She pulls her hand away and scrunches up her face. “But first I have to do chores.”
“That idea is terrible and boring.”
She stands up, a sigh on her lips. “I know. But if I don’t do the room cleaning, it won’t get done. And if it’s not done for a few days, then we won’t be able to rent rooms out anymore. It’s a fragile system.”
Pearl grabs a pair of leggings and a T-shirt out of the closet, then shoos me out of the bedroom. To my surprise, she pulls a small accordion room divider out from the wall; it’s a built-in feature, it seems.
When she reappears, sliding the divider back in its slot, she’s moving slow.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“We?”
“Well, yeah. You’re not going to just leave me here, are you?”
She shakes her head. “I’m supposed to turn over a few cabins. You know – change the sheets, clean the kitchen, mop the floors. Aunt Delta is going to swing by in the morning and refill the fresh coffee and place a new complimentary gift basket in each cabin.”
“Okay. Maybe you can show me how you clean the first cabin. And then we can split them between us.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “And you’re just volunteering to help?”
I shrug. “I’ve got time. You need help. The sooner you finish your chores, the sooner I can have you all to myself. Preferably in bed, naked, and moaning.”
Flushing, Pearl gives me the same smile she would a crazy man with a gun. “Okay…”
As we walk down to the cabins, I glance at her, and finally ask the question that’s been on my mind. “Have you thought about who is going to do all this work when you’re pregnant?”
She snorts. “Every woman in this family has worked a physical job right up until the day they gave birth. I’m going to be exactly the same.”
“And after the birth? I don’t know a ton about having babies. But I know enough that I think you need to rest for a while. Isn’t that the whole point of paid family leave?”
“You’ve got to be crazy if you think that everybody gets paid leave just because they had a baby. This is not some progressive state. This is Georgia. There are no social safety nets for moms. Not even if there are complications, like a botched C-section. That happened to my aunt Shayla, and the family pulled together to help while she recovered enough to hold her baby. Then,” she mimes wiping her hands. “Shayla was back working at her factory job the next week.”
It takes me a few moments to absorb that. “That’s fucked up.”
“That’s the way everybody around here lives. Most of us don’t have the same kind of help that Billion-Dollar Bennetts probably have.”
My head whips around so I can look at her. “Are you saying that a week is an acceptable amount of time to recover from having a baby? Because that seems nuts.”
She purses her lips and doesn’t look at me. She shrugs a shoulder. “That’s just how things are in most of the world.”
Pearl starts jogging toward the cabins, clearly signaling that she doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. I follow her around while she cleans the first cabin in silence.
I hear chirping. Curious, I head back onto the porch. It looks like the gutters haven’t been cleaned in over a year, allowing pine straw to build up at the corners of the roof. Nestled in the pine straw are a family of birds.
I’m going to have to clear that out at some point. Otherwise, one of these days it will rain and the water will back up until it weighs too much. At that point, it’ll find a weak point in the roof and leak into the cabin.
Pearl’s cleaning strategy is nothing if not efficient. She replaces the linens first. Next, she cleans the tiny kitchen and bathroom. Then she mops all the cement floors. In, out, done and dusted in little more that fifteen minutes.
I’m much slower when I start my own cabin. Fumbling with the sheets takes a few minutes. I notice that the top sheet that I’m putting on the bed is so old and worn that it has several sewn-up holes in it.
The kitchen also shows extreme signs of wear and tear. The laminate countertop is chipped and stained. The sheet pan that I wash is rusted. The ancient stovetop is peeling and cracking in patches, and spots of rust dapple the surface.
Cleaning the bathroom is much the same. A large chunk of the laminate counter in the bathroom is missing; you can see straight through to the cabinet underneath.
As I scrub the stained bathtub, I realize that I will not feel bad when I buy Pearl’s family out. They have taken care of these cabins, but even carefully maintained spaces eventually show their age.
Sure, I will feel guilty for embroidering the truth when I talk to Pearl. But this place? I will not lose a single night’s sleep knowing that it has been knocked down.
Mostly I’m wondering who chooses to stay in a cabin so decrepit. How does Pearl’s family continue to rent them out?
“Are you done yet?”
I jump at the sound of Pearl’s voice. Turning around, I find her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
“Just finished.”
“Good. Let’s go.” She walks out the front door.
“Do you want me to start the next cabin?”
Pearl reaches out and touches my arm, softening. “No, River. I already cleaned three more cabins while you were finishing this one.”
I look at my watch and realize that it took me almost forty-five minutes to clean the cabin. Tapping my watch and feeling as though I somehow time warped, I shake my head. “Where did the time go?”
She comes close, twining my arm with hers and taking my hand. “Where it always goes. Into the past.”
Pulling on my hand, she tugs me back toward her trailer. I let her guide me; I would probably follow Pearl off the edge of a cliff if she batted her lashes and smiled at me while we tumbled to our deaths.
Even knowing that, I still allow her to lead me, hoping that eventually the trail will end at her bed.